Green
by j-orbanski
Summary: A case centered around the Cluedo board game forces Sherlock and John to question a victim. Only the victim has an idea of his own.  Jealous John is Jealous! fic. Rated R for Sherlock / John slashiness


**014.) Green **

**Author:** Jordan  
**Fandom:** Sherlock BBC  
**Pairing:** Sherlock / John  
**Rating:** R  
**Word Count:** 771  
**Disclaimer:** Only borrowing the characters, nor profit, etc.  
**Summary:** A case centered around the Cluedo board game forces Sherlock and John to question a victim. Only the victim has an idea of his own.  
**Notes:** Written for my 100 prompts in 200 days.

* * *

Green reminds John of his early days in the army. He wore green every single day for almost a year during his training. As soon as he was off to Afghanistan it was tan, tan, tan. But he still wears tan on occasion, hoping to blend in with the world around him.

But wearing green makes him feel like a walking shrubbery. He still refuses to wear green. But he never wore green much before he enlisted anyway. Green's just not his color.

* * *

There's a case Sherlock takes on from Lestrade that revolves around the Cluedo board game. The second man murdered is Colonel Mustard. He was killed with a lead pipe in the billiards room of his home.

The murders lead them to sitting in the living room, a brand new board game in between the two.

"I don't get what this has to do with the case," says john.

"Just a bit of research, John. This could help to figure out the pattern of the killer," Sherlock responds, choosing a game piece.

"Have you never played Cluedo before?" John asks, grabbing Colonel Mustard.

"Of course not. There's better use of my time."

Sherlock decides to be Reverend Green. John has barely rolled the die once when Sherlock's phone goes off with a call from Lestrade.

There's been an attack. It was supposed to be a murder, but it was interrupted. The man, named Green, was stabbed with a dagger while standing in his kitchen. The murderer got away by leaping through a window after an altar boy interrupted them.

"Altar boy? You don't mean…" John asks.

"Yes, John, Reverend Green, in the kitchen, with the dagger," Sherlock replies with a smirk on his face.

They meet Lestrade at Bart's as they all want to question the Reverend. What had happened? Could he recognize his attacker?

Green suffered a stab wound to the stomach, and was recovering well despite the circumstances, Lestrade tells them. He's sitting up in bed, joking with his friends, his assistant, and the nurses. Doctors expect full recovery in a few weeks.

John isn't surprised. Belly wounds are always an easy fix – he could stitch them up blindfolded by now.

Sherlock stands in the corner of Green's room and watches what happens as Lestrade begins his round of questioning.

John hears that all too familiar murmur of, "Gay."

"You must be joking. He's a reverend for God's sake!" John murmurs.

"You can't see it? Plus the altar boy in his kitchen at 11 at night? Come on, John, you're not that stupid. Watch."

Sherlock lurks out from the corner, a completely different personality shining through. John hates when he does this – the seemingly effortless way Sherlock could slip into being a different person entirely. He hates seeing a Sherlock that isn't the Sherlock he knows.

Sherlock begins flirting with the Reverend as he questioned him about the experience. And to John's utter surprise, the Reverend begins to flirt right back.

"Maybe once I get out of this bed, we can meet up for coffee and you can tell me all about the cases you've solved. Oh, yes, Mr. Holmes, I've heard about your reputation," smiles the Reverend.

John suddenly wants to growl, to make known that Sherlock is his, and only is. He craves to rip off Sherlock's blue scarf at that moment to expose the bruises on Sherlock's pale neck – the ones he put there with his teeth.

Sherlock slowly begins to remove the mask, showing his cold demeanor once again, retreating towards John and the corn, but Green continues to bat his eyelashes and look Sherlock up and down repeatedly – undressing him with his eyes.

John tries to calm himself down, he imagines cleaning his gun. He tries to run through every step in his mind, but he only gets to unloading the ammo when he wants to strangle the Reverend until the heart monitor stops beeping and flatlines.

He sighs a great sigh of relief when Sherlock says he has enough information for now. They're not four steps from Green's door when John grabs Sherlock's hand, pulls him forcefully down the hallway, down a darkened stairwell, and around a few corners into an empty hospital room.

He shoves Sherlock into the wall, ripping the scarf off his throat, a violet-yellow bruise exposed right on Sherlock's jugular.

"Mine," John growls as he attacks the other side of Sherlock's neck, leaving a matching bruise, claiming what is rightfully his.

"You really do hate all aspects of Green, don't you?" Sherlock laughs before he captures John's lips in a searing kiss which makes John's worries disappear.


End file.
